


the haunting of black widow

by infinity_girl (orphan_account)



Series: the stages of grief [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, F/M, I have enough on my conscience already, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), please don't read if you haven't seen the movie, sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/infinity_girl
Summary: He feels the rickety old park bench creak under pressure. He looks to his right and sees a young woman, her back turned to him.Her hair is red, short curls bouncing on her shoulders. Her frame is dainty, and that coat looks almost a little too familiar.Clint doesn't want to believe, but he does. Oh, how he wants to believe.





	the haunting of black widow

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to the other side by ruelle while writing, and i'd recommend listening to it while reading!

Clint's strolling in some park he doesn't even know the name of when it happens. He's quietly humming a soft little tune to himself, one that he's been hearing on the radio a lot lately.

He stares at his fingernails, opting to sit on a park bench instead of walking around mindlessly, with a high chance of bumping into someone. With a faded image of a smile, he looks at the playground.

The children are playing with their parents, joy apparent on all of their faces. They're all so  _happy_. Parents, never wanting to let their children go again. Missing five years of their lives, or learning what a life without your child feels like.

It surprises Clint, how long people's memories are. It's been three years since everyone's returned. However, he supposes he can't blame them for being clingy. And sure, maybe he should be at home with Laura and the kids, rejoicing their return. But that euphoria faded a long time ago.

Because all this joy was the result of sacrifice. Clint thinks of how many people are happily rejoicing like nothing is wrong with the ones they had lost. How they know nothing of the sacrifices made. Of how Tony and Natasha-

Clint breathes. In, out. In, out. Again and again until his breaths fall into an even, steady pattern.

He feels the rickety old park bench creak under pressure. He looks to his right and sees a young woman, her back turned to him.

Her hair is red, short curls bouncing on her shoulders. Her frame is dainty, and that coat looks almost a  _little_ too familiar.

Clint doesn't want to believe, but he  _does_. Oh, how he wants to believe.

After the Red Room, the first thing she’d done was cut her hair. There, she’d been forced to grow it out, to look like their ideal woman, to blend in anywhere and everywhere as their beautiful girl. It had been a fuck you to her handlers. It had been her way of telling them that she wasn't their perfect little porcelain doll to play around with.

He stares at her back, eyes unseeing. His voice breaking in a way he isn’t proud of, he whispers a name, “Tasha?”

The woman turns around, and suddenly it’s all wrong. Her face is far too long, and her lips are covered in a bold dark red lipstick. Natasha had always opted for shades of pink if given the choice.

Her hands are smooth, dainty, and soft, not calloused with gun work like Natasha’s are. No matter how many creams Natasha had attempted to use on her hands to help her blend in while undercover, she was never able go get rid of the scars of a skilled gunman.

And worst of all, her eyes. The dark brown eyes feel like they’re mocking Clint. Natasha’s were green, like a gemstone. she’d always been good about hiding what she was thinking, and how she felt. But the best feeling in the world was when Natasha’s eyes had glittered with humor when Clint had made an especially funny joke, or had done something exceptionally stupid.

It hadn’t been her feeling an emotion strongly enough for it to break through her masks, no, Natasha was more skilled than that. It meant that Natasha had trusted him enough to tell him how she really felt.

He remembers looking into those green eyes on that mission that had changed everything for him, the mission that had given him his best friend. He remembers watching her desperation as she pulled that child out of the rubble, and led him to safety.

He remembers everything, and this woman in front of him isn’t Natalia Romanov.

The woman opens her mouth to speak, and even her accent is wrong. Her voice is syrupy, slipping between his fingers. Natasha had always been blunt to her core, “Sorry?”

Confusion overtakes her features, and Clint can feel the tears coming to his eyes, “Thought you were someone else. My bad.”

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. A smile rests on her face, in what’s supposed to be reassuring, he thinks. It doesn’t feel reassuring, “It’s alright.”

Clint plasters a smile on his face in return, and then slowly begins to walk away. As he gets farther and farther away, he starts to run as fast as he can because he needs to get away. His skin is crawling and his gut is twisting and it hurts it hurts it hurts-

He hears the splash of rain against the sidewalk, but he feels nothing. His body feels numb, like he’s a stranger walking inside of someone else’s body. He hopes that maybe if he prays hard enough he won’t have to feel anything, he won’t have to feel like everything is crumbling to dust right in front of him when he has what he asked for.

It feels like some kind of trick. Like those genie stories, where the wish is granted, but the cost is far too much, and suddenly nothing matters anymore. Even going home reminds him of her. He knows it’s not fair to them, but he can’t even look Nathaniel in the eye anymore.

He runs until he feels like his lungs are burning up with acid, and when he finally stops, it feels like he’s breaking. He sits down on the dirt ground and he can hear Natasha whispering in his ear, telling him that it’s okay, that it’s alright, and that everything will be okay even though it won’t be okay because she’s not here by his side to tell him. He sits down because he knows that if he stands, his knees will give out from under him, and he doesn't want to be perceived as  _that_ weak.

His eyes burn, and his tears feel like poison as he cries.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember being forced to go to the Avengers 1 premiere by my brother, and being surprised with how amazing it was. Upon watching it, the one character who stood out for me was definitely Black Widow. 
> 
> Not because she's a woman, all though she was a character i admired through my childhood. Because she's stronger than you'll ever know. That scene with Loki on the helicarrier? She's a badass, and the whole world knows it.
> 
> Endgame was heartbreaking to watch. I don't think I've ever cried harder at a Marvel Movie. It was sort of like saying goodbye to my childhood, you feel me? But we've all got to say goodbye at some point, no matter how hard it is. 
> 
> So goodbye, Natasha Romanov. I love you 3000.


End file.
